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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27158429">A Thread of Slowly Unraveling Days</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/audreycritter/pseuds/audreycritter'>audreycritter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood &amp; Manga</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Affection, F/M, Flashbacks, Marriage of Convenience, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of violent imagery, PTSD, Post-Promised Day, Recovery, Royai - Freeform, Sharing a Bed, Some minor fluff, brief mild pneumonia, brief non-sexual non-graphic nudity at the end, canonical injuries, if the convenience is feeling safe, no profreading we die like mne, this story contains zero (0) sex on page or intentionally implied, two characters take turns holding the brain cell or the panic attack, wanton mix of food cultures</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:42:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,378</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27158429</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/audreycritter/pseuds/audreycritter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the weeks after Promised Day, Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye can't seem to let go of each other.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Riza Hawkeye &amp; Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>178</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Thread of Slowly Unraveling Days</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/laquilasse/gifts">Laquilasse (laquilasse)</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Constellation/gifts">Star_Constellation</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is very self-indulgent, fair warning. I might have missed a canon detail or two here or there, feel free to note in the comments as long as you're kind! Mind the tags. Title from "Backchannels" by Shearwater</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="has-line-data">"But hold this sound<br/>Follow it all the way</p>
  <p>And put down the knife</p>
  <p>The night is here<br/>But still is<br/>    spinning out stars in its wake<br/>And that stubborn light<br/>Pools in your heart"</p>
  <p>- <em>Backchannels,</em> by Shearwater</p>
  <hr/>
</blockquote><p class="has-line-data"> </p><p class="has-line-data">The days after the Promised Day had a surreal quality to them-- they each felt like a gift, precious and undeserved, astounding in their solidity. Long stretches of hours felt like dawn in the rural hillsides-- golden light unfurling over all that the deep black of night had hidden. In hollows beneath hills, where moonlight didn’t touch, clear sunlight crept in and caught dew on blades of grass, on beetle wings, on spider webs and fog-damp stones. Every breath Riza Hawkeye drew in those days was rich with life, loamy and full.</p><p class="has-line-data">Perhaps it wasn’t that it felt surreal-- her own limbs, the new scar on her neck, the gooseflesh of arms in the hospital chill all felt the most real anything ever had.</p><p class="has-line-data">Perhaps a better word was sacred. Her chest ached sometimes with how little she deserved such a thing as a new beginning, but it felt like a new beginning all the same. The old blood on her hands was still there, browned and blackened; their plans were the same. The crushing despair, though, that had faded-- it had lifted from the Colonel, too.</p><p class="has-line-data">She could see it in the set of his shoulders, easy and relaxed as he sat cross legged on the bed near hers, blind but barely slowed down. He’d caught a second wind and crackled with the energy of it-- she remembered that feeling, so odd in the quiet boy he’d been when they were both so young. She hadn’t quite realized how much it had been snuffed out of him until it was back. It was something <em>electric</em>, that thrummed with purpose; it had drawn his team around him, had swayed her father.</p><p class="has-line-data">When he was stressed, his posture stiffened. He held himself precisely-- there was no other way to carry the world, except with great intention and effort. She knew the relief showed on her face, but she couldn’t care that others might see it. They were both alive and he <em>looked</em> alive again.</p><p class="has-line-data">They’d been brought into the hospital with linked arms. When an ambulance showed up at the edge of the smoking field, they hadn’t let go of each other and nobody had made any attempt to separate them. Riza’s neck required careful cleaning and many stitches, and she had laid on her side watching Roy for every single second of it. He couldn’t see her in return, and when she couldn’t talk without disrupting the surgeon’s work, he had stumbled from bed to a chair and put a freshly-bandaged hand over her uninjured one. He’d only been an inch off the first time he swept his hand through the air, searching-- she’d smiled at that, too.</p><p class="has-line-data">They’d felt like a well-oiled machine for years but on the field fighting that <em>monster</em> something had clicked, and they no longer felt like two distinct people. Maybe that was a problem. But it was a problem for other days, for people who weren’t them in those moments of recovery.</p><p class="has-line-data">Weeks of golden days, while the world glittered under the new morning sun-- Roy’s sight slowly returned, not completely, but enough. Her wound faded to tender pink scar.</p><p class="has-line-data">When they were discharged, there wasn’t even a discussion. They went to Roy’s apartment, and Riza knew she’d be staying for a while, damn propriety.</p><p class="has-line-data">They argued about the bed and the couch, but it was half-hearted. It ended up being a moot point that Riza won that argument, because when she was sleeping on the couch the nightmares began.</p><p class="has-line-data">The golden days were ending, washed in navy shadows like the sudden plunge into autumn twilight. Together, always together now, they stepped from the relief of survival into the trenches of it.</p><p class="has-line-data">The first nightmare, she was out of practice at them-- a few weeks without them and she’d forgotten how gutting they could be. It wasn’t even a complicated dream, just a slight shift from reality. King Bradley’s swords came down in Roy’s chest instead of his hands, and she watched helplessly as he was kept alive just long enough to be used-- they brought his body up from underground, the fire in him snuffed out like a thin candle.</p><p class="has-line-data">She woke with a gasp, a hand clapped over her mouth. The couch cushions beneath her were plush, cradling her body. It felt like a coffin.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Lieutenant,” he said, voice hoarse. Her gaze snapped to him. He was standing in the hall, one hand braced on the wall. She could see from the couch that his arm was shaking. The light in the kitchen cast a faint glow over the living room, enough to see his face and how unfocused his eyes were. He still had trouble seeing.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Colonel,” she said. Her voice sounded like dry autumn leaves crackling under boot heels. She staggered to her feet. Her legs, still stiff with sleep, complied but not with much grace. She covered the space between them in only a few steps, wrapping her arms around him and tucking her head beneath his chin.</p><p class="has-line-data">There might be a day when it felt too intimate again, like in days past when a brief touch or nod were enough, but in days that were golden slurring into gray it felt like the most natural thing in the world. It was a space to belong, somewhere to fit-- her arms fit just right against his back, the curve of his shoulder blades, and his arms curled around her like a puzzle piece clicking into place.</p><p class="has-line-data">His breath was warm across the top of her head, his exhale ragged. The rigidity of fear seeped out of her and she felt him relax, muscles softening beneath thin pajamas.</p><p class="has-line-data">For a moment, neither moved or spoke. They held each other in the dim apartment, his finger gently tracing the unscarred arch of tattoo. He knew without looking exactly where it was, where the tattoo ended and where the rippling scar began.</p><p class="has-line-data">“You too?” he asked, in a low rasp.</p><p class="has-line-data">She nodded against his chest. “You?” she asked, though it was more acknowledgement than question.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Mm,” he said. One hand moved up to cradle the back of her head. He held her like she was something precious, but not fragile-- his palm pressed firm against her mussed hair.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Drink?” she offered, thinking of the unopened bottle of vodka in the cabinet by the sink.</p><p class="has-line-data">“No,” he said, harsh in the quiet. His voice was gentler when he spoke again. “If I start now, I won’t stop.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“Tea,” she said, decisively. She didn’t let go of him and he didn’t step back. The silence stretched on, and Riza could see each action in her mind: filling the kettle, ducking her head to make sure the burner lit, measuring the shriveled black leaves, her finger grazing his shoulder in reassurance when the kettle whistled and he flinched. He always did when no one else was around, too tired to suppress it himself. In their early days in Eastern, he’d mumbled something about liquids and temperatures and skin and trailed off, eyes wide and blank. She’d pressed a single finger on his shoulder, her trigger finger with its practiced lightness, and never pressed him to finish.</p><p class="has-line-data">The clock in the corner tick-tocked steadily in the hushed quiet and Riza was drifting.</p><p class="has-line-data">“I’m falling asleep,” he murmured into her hair.</p><p class="has-line-data">She nodded, yawned.</p><p class="has-line-data">His hand slipped away from her back. His fingers wrapped around her wrist and gave a gentle tug. She knew what he was asking.</p><p class="has-line-data">“I’ll take the couch,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation.</p><p class="has-line-data">“No,” Riza said.</p><p class="has-line-data">In bed, they faced each other. His hand hovered for a breath, and then he traced the line of her cheek, the curve of her jaw-- the strange calloused spots from snapping against the fabric of the glove were rough like the wood grain of a rifle. She pressed a palm to the side of his face and with a soft sigh, he closed his unfocused eyes.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Lieutenant,” he said.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Colonel,” she replied.</p><p class="has-line-data">“I won’t be able to let you go a second time,” he said quietly, steadily. “Not for anything. Not even if you come back from the grave to shoot me for it.”</p><p class="has-line-data">She thought of his blood on King Bradley’s sword, the echo of his scream, the shade of dreams where she never saw him alive again. Her heart stung like it had caught the smoldering sparks of a backfiring gun.</p><p class="has-line-data">Riza didn’t mean to cry. Her eyes filled with tears and she couldn’t call them back; they slipped down her face, across his thumb. He froze, his breath catching on an inhale and sticking in his chest.</p><p class="has-line-data">“You have to,” she whispered back fiercely. “Promise me, sir. No matter how many times.”</p><p class="has-line-data">There was perhaps a world where they could protect each other from those threats; there was a world where they walked away from each other before their lives became so intertwined.</p><p class="has-line-data">That wasn’t the world they had.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Lieutenant,” he said, his voice breaking now. She hadn’t heard him sound so broken or so young in years-- even in the tunnels beneath Central, he’d sounded aged and crushed when he fell beside her. This was a different kind of shattered.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Sir,” she said, equally pleading. She didn’t have the energy to be commanding or stony about this. She knew too keenly what she was asking of him and hated the world for having to ask.</p><p class="has-line-data">He thumbed away a tear, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.</p><p class="has-line-data">“I promise,” he said, voice level again. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I promise.”</p><p class="has-line-data">She looped an arm around his waist and listened to his steady breathing.</p><p class="has-line-data">In another few weeks, they’d move to Ishval.</p><p class="has-line-data">There was so much work to do.</p><p class="has-line-data">But they could do it together.</p><p class="has-line-data">Eventually, she fell asleep.</p><hr/><p class="has-line-data">After they’d left the hospital, Grumman had ordered them to take two weeks minimum of a sabbatical. Neither would decline and risk the other following suit, missing out on much-needed hours of rest after sleepless days and nights plotting against King Bradley.</p><p class="has-line-data">Roy felt like he hadn’t slept in all the time they’d spent apart. Without her or his team he could never let his guard down. He’d slept with his gloves on, a pistol beneath his pillow.</p><p class="has-line-data">After a few days at home of sleeping and fighting the headaches from trying to read when he was awake, he spent hours lying on the rug listening to the radio. It was like he hadn’t heard music in years-- he couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard something that wasn’t a military march.</p><p class="has-line-data">Riza hummed along with some songs while she cleaned guns or read books. He snapped his fingers along to one song, a lazy smile on his face, until he caught her sternly reproving gaze-- she was less amused by the little cracks of firework above him than he was, even if he was being careful not to let any sparks singe the carpet.</p><p class="has-line-data">That song faded, there was an advertisement for soap and another for tobacco, and he rose. The next song began, with that same peppy afternoon tempo, and he held his hand out to her.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Dance with me,” he said, determined that if things were right with the world in only this small window, he wouldn’t miss it.</p><p class="has-line-data">“I need my feet, sir. It’s how I save your ass.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“I won’t step on your toes, Lieutenant,” he said, feigning woundedness. They’d played this game for cover, over the phone and in front of enemy eyes, so many times. This was a little less feigned than that, a little more of a joke they shared.</p><p class="has-line-data">Riza’s gaze lingered a beat too long on the line of pink scar tissue across his palm. The bones, two chipped and one broken, were still healing. Rather than flushing with shame, his eyes drifted to the swoop of scar across her neck. His sight didn’t need to be fully recovered to make out that mark.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Lieutenant,” he said, not joking now. “Dance with me.”</p><p class="has-line-data">It was a request, not an order, and he could tell by her expression that she knew it. She took his hand and stood, leaving her book behind.</p><p class="has-line-data">Black Hayate, dropped off two days before by Rebecca, whined curiously from beside the couch, but was too well-trained to run underfoot. He persisted until Riza reassured him, with a firm word and a laugh at his petulant, panting look. Roy drank in the laughter like a man in a desert, flashing her a grin that was as genuine as anything ever had been.</p><p class="has-line-data">They didn’t need masks with each other, not for reputation or protection.</p><p class="has-line-data">Her smile in return was sweet and earnest, more precious for its rarity. There was a serious look in her brown eyes, not like sorrow but something sober. He spun her and dipped her back, ignoring the ache in his hands and head, and when the song ended he didn’t let go of her.</p><p class="has-line-data">“What are you thinking about?” he asked, when she stilled with her head on his shoulder, as if they hadn’t stopped dancing but merely changed to another dance.</p><p class="has-line-data">“You,” she said bluntly.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Me?” he said, with a teasing chuckle.</p><p class="has-line-data">“You,” she said again. She didn’t offer more, and he didn’t press. What had he been thinking about, after all, except her?</p><p class="has-line-data">This was his refuge from nightmares, his fuel to go on. Her by his side was both a balm and a driving force. He pressed a kiss to her temple, a gesture of affection he’d been using more and more since the Promised Day.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Sometime,” she said, with warning, “that will have to stop.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“Do you want me to?” he asked, caught genuinely off guard. She’d never tensed or telegraphed any unease.</p><p class="has-line-data">“No,” she said. “But at work. They’ll misunderstand.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“No,” he said, catching her chin in his sore hand. “They won’t.”</p><p class="has-line-data">She regarded him for a long time and then nodded.</p><p class="has-line-data">“We have a goal, Colonel.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“We do,” he said. “And we won’t risk it. But it wouldn’t be a misunderstanding.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“No,” she said, agreeing, the flicker of smile confident and content. “It wouldn’t be.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“I’ll make dinner,” he said. “Read to me?”</p><p class="has-line-data">“It’s a gun manual,” she said.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Pretend it isn’t,” he said, groaning. “Make something up.”</p><p class="has-line-data">She flicked the back of his head and he laughed.</p><hr/><p class="has-line-data">“Colonel,” Riza said, nudging him with her foot. “Do you need a break?”</p><p class="has-line-data">His face was drawn and pale, dark shadows under his eyes. He hadn’t been sleeping well. She knew, because every time he woke she was there beside him, honed instincts jerking her from slumber at the slightest noise.</p><p class="has-line-data">“If Havoc heard you offering to let me out of paperwork,” he said, his eyes closed and his head tipped back on the couch, “he’d think one of us was ill.”</p><p class="has-line-data">The paperwork was reviewing the transfer orders to Ishval. They had over a week left before they even technically had to look at it. In a moment of extreme boredom, Riza had convinced Fuery to bring over a thick folder of paperwork. She and Roy weren’t very good at doing nothing.</p><p class="has-line-data">And today, Roy had been the one who insisted on getting it out. She’d taken over reading when he kept pausing to pinch the bridge of his nose, as if he could somehow force his eyes to focus properly if he just ignored the headache long enough.</p><p class="has-line-data">“You are ill,” she said dryly. “Your Fuhrer ordered a medical leave.”</p><p class="has-line-data">Roy waved a hand dismissively and then winced at the gesture and massaged his wrist. She took his hand from him and began carefully working the taut muscles around the scar tissue and healing bone.</p><p class="has-line-data">“You also need glasses,” she said.</p><p class="has-line-data">He grumbled, a look of profound disgust twisting his face.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Marcoh said to expect my sight to fully recover.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“He said to <em>hope</em> for a full recovery,” she reminded him ruthlessly. “You need glasses for now, anyway.”</p><p class="has-line-data">Roy squinted at her. “When Havoc was injured, you were very kind and encouraging.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“I am encouraging you, sir,” she said. “Encouraging you to get glasses.”</p><p class="has-line-data">He sighed. “Fine, fine. I’ll set up an appointment.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“You have one tomorrow afternoon. Fuery recommended a doctor when I asked him yesterday. They were very eager to make room for you in their schedule.”</p><p class="has-line-data">Roy scrunched further down on the couch.</p><p class="has-line-data">She patted his head, not unlike the way she’d pat Black Hayate-- who noticed, because of course he did, and left his spot sprawled out in the sun to trot over and nudge her knee and ask for his own pat. She laughed under her breath and Roy cracked one eye open to study her suspiciously.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Lieutenant?” he asked.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Nothing,” she said, patting the dog’s head. Roy watched and curled his lip in even greater disgust. He reached for the blanket folded on the back of the couch and dragged it over his shoulders.</p><p class="has-line-data">“I’m taking a nap,” he announced needlessly.</p><p class="has-line-data">Riza looked at the thick stack of papers she held and then set them down on the nearby low table. She tugged an edge of the blanket and he raised his arm automatically in invitation, shifting his shoulder to make room.</p><p class="has-line-data">She flopped on top of him instead, relishing the little <em>oof</em> of surprise that escaped him. He resettled under her on the couch, and flicked the blanket over to cover them both, his arm resting on the small of her back.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Comfortable, sir?” she asked.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Crushed by the weight of your boundless demands,” he replied immediately. His voice was already slurred with sleep.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Only doing my job,” she replied.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Mhm,” he mumbled agreeably.</p><p class="has-line-data">Riza didn’t sleep, but spent a long time watching the light outside the window turn orange and pink, like peony blossoms on a hillside, and listening to his heartbeat beneath her ear.</p><hr/><p class="has-line-data">It was dark when Riza woke, flung from sleep into sudden awakeness. She glanced over, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise, and was instantly more alert.</p><p class="has-line-data">Roy was sitting up, hunched forward, his brow cradled in one hand. Ragged breathing was as loud as a steam engine in the room. Fingers scrabbled at his throat, hunting to loosen a collar he wasn’t wearing. Riza caught one of his hands in her own, alarmed.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Colonel?” she said.</p><p class="has-line-data">A wrenching groan escaped him. He was trembling all over. He pulled away from her grasp and staggered to his feet and away from the bed. She followed more slowly to give him a minute if he needed it-- then she heard the click of a door latch, slammed porcelain, and retching.</p><p class="has-line-data">She found him in the bathroom, hunched over the toilet, emptying his stomach. She knelt beside him and rubbed circles over the ridges of his spine until he sat back, shaking.</p><p class="has-line-data">When she came back from the kitchen with a glass of water and a damp cloth, he was leaning back against the wall, wrists propped on his knees. He took the glass and water sloshed over the side-- she caught it just as it slipped from his grasp. He mumbled an indistinct sound that might have been an apology.</p><p class="has-line-data">His fingers were bent and rigid, so she wiped his face off as if he was a small child. In the time it took to turn and toss it in the sink, he crumpled.</p><p class="has-line-data">Riza knelt beside him on the cold floor and gathered him into her arms. His face, pressed against her collarbone, was damp and hot. Heaving, ugly sobs tore out of him, and he clung to her like she might dissolve in his grasp if he let go for even a second.</p><p class="has-line-data">Startled, she stroked his sweaty hair back and murmured soft words of comfort-- she’d seen him cry before but not like this for years. He wept until the cries were hoarse and cracking, and she realized her own cheeks were wet with tears. She untangled an arm to scrub at them with a sleeve hem.</p><p class="has-line-data">His breath rattled in the chilled bathroom. It was a labored wheezing that reminded her of her father’s final moments. The unease turned to dread and she gripped his shoulders, propping him up.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Colonel,” she said sharply. The glazed look she got in reply only deepened her dread. He choked on nothing, and caught his breath only to desperately mumble, “I killed you, I killed you, I killed you.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“I’m right here,” Riza said firmly, holding her wrist to his forehead. He leaned into the touch, a keening whine in his throat, and she hissed. “You’re burning up. I need to call for a doctor.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“I killed you,” he said again, voice small. “I killed you so they couldn’t use you against me again.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“It was a nightmare,” she said, willing the thudding of her heart to slow so she could focus. She’d been in firefights that had rattled her less than this. “I’m okay, Colonel, look at me.”</p><p class="has-line-data">His eyes were closed, his chest retracting rapidly; he was on the verge of falling apart all over again and he seemed far away from her.</p><p class="has-line-data">Riza took in a long, steadying breath and cupped his fevered cheek. She waited, inches from his face, and spoke softly.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Roy,” she said, “look at me.”</p><p class="has-line-data">His eyes snapped open, pupils blown with panic. She grabbed for his hand and pressed it to her own face.</p><p class="has-line-data">“I’m not Envy. Envy is dead. It’s just me. I’m alive. I’m right here. I need you to get back in bed.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“Riza?” he asked, searching her face. His hand dropped down to brush the scar along her neck, and a shudder wracked him. His expression cleared just enough that she thought he was taking it in. “Lieutenant.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“Yes, Colonel,” she said. “You need to stand up. I have to call Dr. Knox.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“Who did I kill this time?” he whispered, “Riza, who did I kill if it wasn’t you?”</p><p class="has-line-data">She felt like a puppet with cut strings, like smoke blowing away in the wind. Helpless, she let her head sink to rest on his shoulder.</p><p class="has-line-data">“No one,” she whispered back. “It was just a dream this time. I promise.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“Okay,” he said. He coughed and leaned his head against hers. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”</p><p class="has-line-data">“Will you worry about yourself for two damn seconds?” she asked, swallowing a near-hysteric burst of laughter. “I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“I’m so tired,” he said, leaning heavily against her. “I don’t think I ever fall asleep.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“Come on,” she said, climbing to her feet. She gripped his forearm and hauled him up after her. “You need to lie down.”</p><p class="has-line-data">He let her lead him to the bed in the room down the hall, sagging onto the mattress the second his knees hit against it. Riza smoothed the quilt over him and pressed a kiss to his warm brow. There was solace in the sleepy half smile he gave her.</p><p class="has-line-data">She called Dr. Knox, then sat beside Roy on the bed and watched him with sharp eyes the whole time she waited.</p><hr/><p class="has-line-data">Dr. Knox diagnosed mild pneumonia. He left a glass bottle of pills, a list of instructions, and orders to go straight to the hospital if any of an alarming list of symptoms appeared.</p><p class="has-line-data">The sun was coming up when he left. He brusquely ordered Riza to get rest on his way out the door-- if he thought it was unusual that she was there in the middle of the night, wearing one of Roy’s old shirts, he said nothing. She’d been too distracted to think of changing until it was too late.</p><p class="has-line-data">She made tea, a cup for her and a cup for Roy, and carried them back to the dim bedroom. Roy was awake, staring at the ceiling.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Smoke damage,” he said, when she set the tea on the bedside table. She nudged a chemistry book and a Xingese history out of the way to make room for the cup.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Hm?” Riza said, mind cloudy with exhaustion.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Dr. Knox said my lungs have smoke damage,” he said, propping himself up first on his elbows. He pushed himself to a sitting position and slumped bonelessly against the headboard before picking up the tea.</p><p class="has-line-data">Riza said nothing. She yawned.</p><p class="has-line-data">“I’m sorry,” he said, peering into the tea cup. When she still didn’t respond, his gaze flicked up to hold hers-- he was concerned and guilty. “I shouldn’t have let myself fall apart like that. It was unprofessional and–”</p><p class="has-line-data">Riza glared at him and he stopped, bewildered. When she spoke, her tone lacked the heat to match her furrowed brow.</p><p class="has-line-data">“I’m a lieutenant because we made choices to put our goals ahead of everything else. You’re a commanding officer because I promised to have your back. But you’re also human. I’m human. We can’t put that away forever, or we won’t be able to achieve the things we set out to do. You made this mistake when we lost Brigadier General Hughes.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Lieutenant and Colonel have to mean something else when we aren’t at work. They already do. We’ve already let them mean something else. You don’t need to apologize for being ill and confused in your own home, or hide your grief or pain. Whatever we call each other, it means something more for us, and that includes the weak moments as well as the moments of strength.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“You always see things so clearly,” Roy said hoarsely. “I need your clarity.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“I need you to drink that tea,” Riza said. “And rest.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“I’m sorry I scared you,” Roy said, opening an arm for her to lean against him.</p><p class="has-line-data">She didn’t argue on that count.</p><p class="has-line-data">She wouldn’t let herself doze, and got up when his tea was gone. He laid down to sleep and tugged on her sleeve, eyes bright with fever, and she shook her head</p><p class="has-line-data">“No, I’m going to keep an eye on you.”</p><p class="has-line-data">He looked like he wanted to argue but didn’t have the energy. She left the room before he could summon any, hoping he’d fall asleep and forget.</p><p class="has-line-data">Her eyes were heavy by midafternoon. A walk would have woken her up but she didn’t dare leave the apartment for longer than the quick excursions to take Black Hayate out.</p><p class="has-line-data">A knock at the door jarred her to alertness. She stood, her hand flying automatically to check the firearm at her side. It wasn’t there-- she wasn’t in uniform, and had never really dressed for the day. All she had was the knife strapped to her thigh.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Lieutenant?” Roy called from the bedroom, punctuating the query with a cough.</p><p class="has-line-data">She listened, watching Black Hayate-- the pup wasn’t barking or growling. There was a second knock, and then she could make out the voices of Breda and Havoc.</p><p class="has-line-data">The adrenaline that had flooded her left just as abruptly. She felt foolish and shaky.</p><p class="has-line-data">“It’s Havoc,” she called back to Roy.</p><p class="has-line-data">Riza pulled the door open, face schooled to impassivity. Havoc took in what she was wearing and a slow grin spread across his face, but before he could exclaim, Breda spoke. He had a paper sack in his arms.</p><p class="has-line-data">“The doc called Havoc. He said you might appreciate another set of eyes.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“We’re a package deal right now,” Havoc said, taking the cue and abandoning anything he might have said. He held the cane in salute. “Haven’t needed it for a week but the bastard makes me carry it around anyway.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“You might get tired,” Breda said, unphased. He looked at Riza. “How’s the Colonel?”</p><p class="has-line-data">“Come in,” Riza said, opening the door and stepping back. “He’s been sleeping.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“We didn’t bring soup, but we brought something even better,” Havoc said, tapping his head. “My ma’s recipe. I polished up my cooking skills while I was back home, when I wasn’t minding the store.”</p><p class="has-line-data">Breda set the bag on the counter and went down the hall, calling, “Colonel?”</p><p class="has-line-data">He must have heard a murmured response because he paused at the door for only a second before going in. Havoc followed him, talking before he was even all the way in the room. Riza unpacked the bag onto the counter, too dazed and restless to sit or follow.</p><p class="has-line-data">When Havoc came back, he rummaged in the cabinet for a pot, and then threw a towel over his shoulder.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Go sleep, Lieutenant,” he told her. “We’ll keep an eye on things.”</p><p class="has-line-data">She nodded, weary and grateful, but paused when he cleared his throat. She glanced back at him. There was an unusual flush of pink in his cheeks and he was staring at a carrot.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Uh, well,” he said.</p><p class="has-line-data">Fumbling like this was also unusual, for Havoc. Riza waited.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Are you going to…will you transfer? To another unit?”</p><p class="has-line-data">It took a moment to process what he was asking, and she shook her head.</p><p class="has-line-data">“No,” she said. “It isn’t like that.”</p><p class="has-line-data">Havoc shot her, and the shirt she was wearing, an incredulous look. But he shrugged amiably and went back to the vegetables.</p><p class="has-line-data">“I just want you to know,” he said, serious and steady, “that we’ve got your backs no matter what. Whatever you both need. If you say nothing’s going on, that’s the official story, whoever asks.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“Thank you,” Riza said. “I appreciate it.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“‘sides, if you leave, who will make him do paperwork? My leave requests will never get approved.” Havoc flashed her a grin and began singing under his breath as he worked.</p><p class="has-line-data">Riza stretched out on the couch and slept. At some point, someone spread a blanket over her.</p><p class="has-line-data">She woke when it was late. Breda was crouched beside the couch, safely out of arm’s reach, but it was him speaking her name that had pulled her to consciousness.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Lieutenant,” he said. “He’s asking for you. I don’t think he believed me when I told him you were asleep out here. He hasn’t been sleeping too easily, but his breathing seems okay.”</p><p class="has-line-data">Riza sat up and rubbed sleep from her eyes. She looked around the lamp-lit apartment-- Havoc was on the balcony, leaning on the railing. The end of his cigarette was neon orange against the night.</p><p class="has-line-data">“I need to take Black Hayate out,” she said, trying to orient herself. Time felt like a blur, the day a smudge across her awareness.</p><p class="has-line-data">“I’ll do it. Will he bite me?”</p><p class="has-line-data">“No,” she said. “Thank you.”</p><p class="has-line-data">When she reached the bedroom, Roy’s face lit up with relief. He didn’t feel any less fevered when she stretched out beside him. He looped his arms around her and held her close, face buried against the back of her neck.</p><p class="has-line-data">“You should trust Breda,” she said.</p><p class="has-line-data">“I shouldn’t have to see you die again and again,” he said bluntly. His hold tightened for a second and he exhaled, a soft sigh. “Is this okay?”</p><p class="has-line-data">“Yeah,” she said, patting his hand. It was more of a relief than she wanted to admit to hear him breathe, and not struggle for each breath. All her sleep had been muddled with memories of her father dying, but Roy in his place-- lips tinged blue, the thready whistle of each inhale and exhale until there was only stillness. She listened to Roy now, consoled by the steady sound.</p><p class="has-line-data">“This is good,” she said, her words rough with her fear held at bay. “Just keep breathing.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“Normally, subordinates don’t give their COs orders,” he replied, the whisper gliding across the spot between her shoulder blades. He meant for the teasing to make her feel better, and it worked, like it always did.</p><p class="has-line-data">“It wasn’t an order, sir. Just a request.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“Granted,” he said. “For you.”</p><hr/><p class="has-line-data">The next few days passed slowly. Havoc and Breda dropped in a few more times, and Roy knew for certain he was out of the woods when he was up to answer the door. Havoc boiled eggs, leaning over the pot with a cigarette dangling from his lips, and badgered Breda until he gave in and ran out for noodles from a vendor.</p><p class="has-line-data">He returned with four steaming bowls and they sat around Roy’s little table, eating fat noodles in mushroom broth with soft boiled eggs on top. The steam fogged Roy’s new glasses, and he resisted the temptation to tuck them into his pocket. It wasn’t worth the chiding look from Riza. When they talked, it was shop talk-- their plans for Ishval, restructuring under Grumman.</p><p class="has-line-data">It was unhurried and familiar. Roy had missed it. He’d missed working with them as their leader, listening to their chatter as the undercurrent of his day. He half-expected Fullmetal to burst through the door, already shouting. He almost missed that, too-- and remembered suddenly that Alphonse Elric had his body back. He hadn’t thought about it in a few days, fighting fevers and fever dreams. He smiled around a mouthful of noodles and caught Riza watching him.</p><p class="has-line-data">She raised an eyebrow.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Nothing,” he said, still smiling.</p><p class="has-line-data">Breda’s eyes narrowed at him.</p><p class="has-line-data">“We should…” Roy began. The clock said it was after four, already.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Tomorrow,” Riza said. “Maybe. Don’t overdo it, sir.”</p><p class="has-line-data">Roy frowned at his bowl of noodles and conceded that she was right-- it was probably too late to visit. He sighed. Breda shot Havoc a look and Havoc choked on a laugh.</p><p class="has-line-data">“What?” Roy demanded.</p><p class="has-line-data">“I’ve always wanted to ask, and I’m going to, before I’m all official again: How the hell do the two of you <em>do</em> that?” Havoc asked. “It’s uncanny.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“Talk about visiting the Elrics?” Roy asked, bemused. This time Riza was the one who laughed, a soft laugh buried her hand.</p><p class="has-line-data">Havoc pointed a fork at Roy and then at Riza. “Neither of you said a word about the Elrics. You barely said any words at all. Breda, did you know what they were talking-- I use that word very loosely-- about?”</p><p class="has-line-data">“No, I did not,” Breda said, looking smugly amused.</p><p class="has-line-data">Roy flashed a smirk at Riza, his heart warm.</p><p class="has-line-data">“We work together well, that’s all,” he said.</p><hr/><p class="has-line-data">There wasn’t much to pack in the sparse apartment. Roy hadn’t lived there long enough to fill it with much other than books, and half of those belonged in the library at Central. He spent a day separating those out into boxes for Breda and Havoc to tote back for him.</p><p class="has-line-data">The other books had notes in the margins and he sometimes caught Riza flipping through them while she helped him pack. He made her take breaks when she looked tired, and she returned the favor, so it was slow going.</p><p class="has-line-data">They went to her place to pack next. There was even less there and it didn’t take long. The next morning she went out to run errands with Rebecca and then came back to his apartment and slept all afternoon, curled up in the bed.</p><p class="has-line-data">Roy made dinner with the balcony door open, listening to the evening sounds of the city in the breezy air. His chest no longer felt full of wet sand, but the scars on his hands itched. He rubbed at one when he took a break from stirring the onions slowly browning in a pan, waiting to be spooned on top of the pot of kasha sitting at the back of the stove. The smell dragged him back into memory, of a time he sat at Aunt Chris’ kitchen table. He had been small enough that his feet didn’t reach the floor when he sat in one of her chairs, waiting to eat.</p><p class="has-line-data">He hoped she’d made it somewhere safe. He’d need to find her sometime soon, send a message, let her know it was safe to come back.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Kasha?” Riza asked, emerging from the bedroom. She sat at the little table within sight of the kitchen.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Mhm,” Roy said. “I thought something easy would be best.”</p><p class="has-line-data">Riza nodded, and pillowed her head on her arms.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Are you alright?” Roy asked, glancing sidelong at her, burying his sharp flash of worry as well as he could.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Exhausted,” Riza said frankly. “The doctor said it might take several weeks to recover, so I’m not concerned. I’m ready to feel normal again, though. I shouldn’t complain. I’ll get there if I just keep moving forward.”</p><p class="has-line-data">Blood loss. Roy had been in the room when they’d spoken to her about it, and he remembered more vividly than that the sight of her on a concrete floor in a spreading pool of her own blood. He didn’t think he’d ever sear that image clean from his mind.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Take your time,” he said. “I’ll grant more leave if you need it. I need you at your best when we go.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“I’ll be ready,” she said.</p><p class="has-line-data">Roy took both bowls to the table and his hands only shook a little from the strain. They ate quietly, with the easy companionship of fatigue and familiarity.</p><p class="has-line-data">“This,” he said, forcing himself to address the topic. They couldn’t put it off forever, and her answer would be her answer. “This can’t go on this way forever.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“I know, sir,” Riza said, her face flushed with shame as she looked down. “I shouldn’t have…”</p><p class="has-line-data">“Lieutenant,” he said gently. “We both made this decision.”</p><p class="has-line-data">It was a lie. Neither of them had decided, they’d barely been thinking. They simply fell in together out of habit and need, in a strange liminal period where they didn’t have an easy natural ending.</p><p class="has-line-data">She looked him full in the eyes, taking his cue that this wasn’t a conversation between officer and subordinate-- it was between them as people, about a bond that went deeper than military oaths.</p><p class="has-line-data">“In Ishval, we can’t afford to be distracted. We need to be able to focus on the work in front of us. We can’t manage the complications of rumors, either.”</p><p class="has-line-data">He knew he’d misjudged somehow by the flicker of hurt in her eyes. She wasn’t awake enough to mask it well, and had been unprepared.</p><p class="has-line-data">“I can request transfer to another–” she began.</p><p class="has-line-data">“No, dammit,” Roy said, putting his face in his shaking hands. “No. That isn’t what I’m…I’m doing this all wrong.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“Colonel?” Riza said, with just that hint of suspicion in her confusion.</p><p class="has-line-data">He pulled his hands away so he could look at her, drink in the sight of her, steady himself. She was safety to him, in a world where nothing felt certain.</p><p class="has-line-data">“When Bradley broke up our unit, we pulled off a counterattack by the skin of our teeth. It nearly destroyed us. I didn’t sleep. You still flinch at shadows if you think no one sees. We can’t take a sabbatical every six months just to catch our breath. We have to be ready for the long haul again. And I don’t want to do it without you at my back. I don’t think I can.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“Understood,” Riza said, her spoon set aside. “What’s the plan?”</p><p class="has-line-data">“Marry me,” Roy said, blunt and certain and his heart pounding. “Please. It’s a request, of course, and not an order. If you say no, nothing else about our plans changes. I won’t ever ask again. But if you say yes, it doesn’t have to change anything else if you don’t want it to-- it would just mean that this…” he gestured around the apartment, “…won’t have to stop. We won’t spend nights in Ishval wondering if…I won’t spend nights awake wondering if you’re still alive.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“But…” Riza frowned, still as a statue. She never fidgeted unless she meant to. “The rules…I know we were already playing it close to the wire, but…”</p><p class="has-line-data">“They don’t exist for this,” Roy said. “I checked. I had Havoc check, too. They forbid dating but not marriage. They removed that part during one of the drafts, about fifty years ago.”</p><p class="has-line-data">Riza stared at him.</p><p class="has-line-data">Roy resisted the urge to squirm like a school boy.</p><p class="has-line-data">“How long ago?” she asked.</p><p class="has-line-data">“This week,” Roy said. “About an hour after I let myself think about what it would be like to go back to work after this.”</p><p class="has-line-data">Riza let her attention drift to the world outside, beyond the balcony window. With his chest so tight Roy was convinced he was having some sort of relapse, he waited. She ran her fingers, unconsciously, over the length of the scar on her neck.</p><p class="has-line-data">“You’re certain?” she asked. Her expression was sober and steady.</p><p class="has-line-data">Roy nodded, his breath caught in his throat. He swallowed hard and managed to speak again.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Absolutely,” he said.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Yes,” she answered. “Our goal doesn’t change. This doesn’t mean you get to try to protect me from the things we commit to together.”</p><p class="has-line-data">Roy hadn’t known it was possible to have your heart break from joy and sorrow at once. Someday, this promise would kill him. Someday, he’d die right along with it and it was the only way he knew he’d keep it.</p><p class="has-line-data">“You have my word,” he said. “We’ll be together. I won’t leave you behind.”</p><p class="has-line-data">Her smile was small and quietly happy and so tender that it took Roy’s breath away. He stood abruptly, taking up his empty bowl, and bent to kiss her on the forehead.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Thank you,” he said. “You are a treasure I do not deserve and could never earn, no matter how high I climb.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“Don’t forget what I’ve done,” Riza warned him, tipping her face up to his. “Don’t make me out to be someone I’m not. We were good once, but we made choices.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“You are a treasure because you understand that and say it without hesitation,” he said, undaunted. “I’d rather have that than a lie.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“Me, too,” Riza said. “So yes, let’s go together.”</p><hr/><p class="has-line-data">The ceremony was small and quick. A judge who did not seem to care much who stood before him in civvies signed the paperwork, the secretary at his office witnessed. She kept her name. They didn’t invite anyone but they did stop to see the Elrics afterward. They didn’t mention it there, either.</p><p class="has-line-data">Alphonse was sitting up on his own. Edward was sitting cross-legged in bed, reading to him. Both boys seemed far more at ease than they ever had before Promised Day. Edward, especially, had a kind of confidence that was settled instead of defensive.</p><p class="has-line-data">On the way home, Roy stopped at a street vendor and bought a few flowers. The relief of doing so without transferring a coded message was unexpectedly immense and he nearly cried in the street. He’d kept himself from any displays of emotion all day, afraid if he let one thing slip he was going to be an unregulated mess.</p><p class="has-line-data">He didn’t hand the flowers to Riza until the door latched behind them, sealing them in the apartment.</p><p class="has-line-data">She stared at them as if confused, then accepted them, and let them hang at her side when she hugged him with one arm.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Don’t go soft on me, Colonel,” she said.</p><p class="has-line-data">“I wouldn’t dare, Lieutenant,” he said. “It’s only that these are for my wife.”</p><p class="has-line-data">She laughed and went away, dropping the flowers on the table after smelling them briefly, and got out a pistol to clean.</p><p class="has-line-data">Roy put them in a vase on the windowsill and listened to her humming.</p><hr/><p class="has-line-data">When Roy opened his eyes in the middle of the night, the first thing he thought was that the limned light of his damaged vision had blown open to bright white fields and he was going blind again.</p><p class="has-line-data">Then, he heard the shower, and processed the light as the light in the hall. The door was wide open. He got up, curious and concerned. Riza wasn’t in the bed beside him.</p><p class="has-line-data">He rubbed his eyes going into the hall. Black Hayate was whining at the bathroom door, and he knocked gently on it.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Lieutenant?”</p><p class="has-line-data">There was no answer but the sound of running water.</p><p class="has-line-data">He fought back the surge of panic and knocked again, loudly this time.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Lieutenant?”</p><p class="has-line-data">There was a strangled sound.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Lieutenant? I’m coming in,” Roy said, jamming his shoulder against the door. It did nothing and he cursed under his breath and clapped his hands together. The lock dissolved in a puff of dust and the door swung inward.</p><p class="has-line-data">The room was damp but not warm. The lights were all on, including two candles, and the bathroom curtain was torn down and on the floor. Riza was huddled in three inches of water, shower still running. Rivulets ran down her shirt, plastered on her back. The ridges of scar were visible through the thin material.</p><p class="has-line-data">Roy knelt beside the bathtub, testing the water with his fingers. It was lukewarm and cooling rapidly. She shivered in the water, arms locked around her legs.</p><p class="has-line-data">“I led them right to you,” she mumbled, distraught. “I led them right to you and emptied my clips but it didn’t even slow them down.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“Nobody else is here,” Roy said. “I’m okay.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“He hides in the shadows,” Riza said. “He could be in any of them, you don’t know, you don’t know, he could gut you before you knew he was there!” Her voice rose in a disconsolate wail.</p><p class="has-line-data">Before Roy had truly thought it through, he decided. He shut off the shower. He climbed into the tub behind her, pulling her against his chest to try to warm her and ground her.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Light reflects off the water. It makes it harder for him to hide,” Riza said, stopping his hand from pulling the drain lever. “He said he’d be in every shadow.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“I’m right here, Lieutenant. He’s gone. They’re all gone. You didn’t lead anyone to me.”</p><p class="has-line-data">She turned her face against his shoulder and wept, long wrenching sobs. He gathered her close and held her tightly while she cried. When her breathing trailed to ragged exhales, he kissed the top of her head.</p><p class="has-line-data">“You need to get dry or you’ll end up sick, too,” he said. He had no idea how long she’d been in the water before he’d come in.</p><p class="has-line-data">“How long have I been here?” Riza asked, a note of terror in her voice. “I was…I woke up…and thought I saw something in the dark…I don’t remember…”</p><p class="has-line-data">“I don’t know,” Roy said helplessly, “I woke up and all the lights were on. I broke the lock.”</p><p class="has-line-data">She twisted to look up at his face, and he knew she was fully present again. Wherever her mind had been before, it hadn’t really been the apartment.</p><p class="has-line-data">“You smell like wet campfire,” she said, and Roy laughed, a brittle and husky sound, and tipped his forehead against her hair.</p><p class="has-line-data">“You’re freezing,” he said. “I’m getting up.”</p><p class="has-line-data">He offered her a hand and she took it, and they stood up together and stepped, dripping, onto the woven mat. Roy pulled towels from the linen closet and Riza stripped off sodden items. When she tried to wring them out over the tub, he reached for them: “Let me. Warm up.”</p><p class="has-line-data">She handed the soaked shirt and pants over without protest, but there was a small sniffle when she pulled the towel around her. He glanced at her face-- she was crying again, quietly this time, while holding the towel over her shoulders.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Lieutenant,” he said, desperate.</p><p class="has-line-data">“I’m fine,” she said. “I don’t like feeling stupid.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“You aren’t,” he assured her. “That’s my job.”</p><p class="has-line-data">That, as he hoped, got a small laugh out of her. He hung wet things over the tub and shucked off his own soaked clothes, wrapped in the other towel.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Come out here,” he said. “I’ll start a fire.”</p><p class="has-line-data">The little fireplace was hardly ever used. It was too warm during the day to bother with a fire this time of year. There was wood stacked in it, waiting, and covered with a layer of dust. He closed his eyes, snapped his fingers and the wood caught.</p><p class="has-line-data">“I think I’ll keep wearing the gloves,” he remarked, almost to himself. They sat in front of the fire, wrapped in towels, backs propped against the couch he shoved closer.</p><p class="has-line-data">She leaned against him when he sat back, and he rested his cheek on her damp hair.</p><p class="has-line-data">“It felt like being hunted,” she said quietly. “Those last few weeks. I didn’t think I’d make it, but I knew I had to. Every word from you was a lifeline.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“I hardly ate or slept,” he admitted. “The worst part was knowing they’d keep me alive. I’ve never wanted to kill anything more than I wanted to kill the Homunculi. For you, for Maes.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“You miss him,” Riza said, and it was a statement instead of a question. “I kept wondering when you’d just say it. I think I had convinced myself you’d stop yourself if you could see it.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“I do,” Roy said, throat tight. “God knows why. He was infuriating.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“But he cared for you,” Riza said, instead of teasing or scolding.</p><p class="has-line-data">“He did,” Roy agreed, knuckles white on the towel. “I won’t let him down.”</p><p class="has-line-data">“We won’t,” she agreed.</p><p class="has-line-data">Roy consciously loosened his fist, slipped an arm around her shoulders to hold her closer. Beneath his arm, beneath the towel, was the research and the scars. He knew them both-- the alchemy and the damage he’d done to her skin-- like his own hands.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Are you alright?” he asked, quietly, carefully. She didn’t like being coddled, but she deserved to be cared for as much as she took care of him.</p><p class="has-line-data">“I am,” she said. “I’m awake. I’m here with you. We won and we have things to still do. That’s enough for me.”</p><p class="has-line-data">He could have said <em>I love you, Riza Hawkeye</em>, but they understood each other, anticipated movements and next words. He wondered if he should say it anyway, but she spoke first.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Colonel,” she said, and then paused.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Hm?” he asked, guessing.</p><p class="has-line-data">“Roy,” she said instead. Her brown eyes were warm and serious, her face lit by the fire. It reflected in her pupils, flickering spots of red and orange.</p><p class="has-line-data">His voice was low. “I know, Riza.”</p><p class="has-line-data">She smiled and it was like golden sunlight.</p>
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